The Last Days
by Squirrel0304
Summary: Linaer has always been her siblings' knight in a white arpron. Weiding a fearsom frying pan she has beaten monsters from under beds and behind closed doors. One day her sister tells her there's a monster in the nursery, and as always she grabs her trusy pan. Too late she realizes the pan isn't going to work against this monster. (Definitely a crack-fic-ish set up.)
1. Frying Pan

**Author's Note: I was bored, spent my free time ring the LOTR wiki, and I felt like writing. This is not likely to be updated frequently, so please do not grow too attached. If someone wishes to take this fic on please feel free to (PM me) do so.**

**Disclaimer: Sauron is property of Morgoth. May they fall into the Void together admitting their long buried hate-crush feelings for each other as they do so, as long they don't tell us about it. What happens between touchy-feely Dark Lords in the Void, should stay in the Void. Or… maybe it'll wind up in someone's fanfiction someday…but THAT is not this fanfiction. In this fanfic, I will create a Sue OC to terrorize Middle Earth and obviously the afore mentioned Dark Lords will suddenly turn into good-ish-guys as they seek to vanquish the Sue… assuming they're not too busy getting reacquainted to pay attention to the Sue taking over the world. (My guess: they won't notice the evilness of the Sue.)**

**(Psst! I own nothing, in case anyone was wondering!)**

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**Frying Pan**

The sound of hastily moving feet dashing across the wood floor was heard long before the owner of those running feet burst into the kitchen.

"Linaer, there's a munster in the nursey."

"Another Monster?" Linaer looked down at her little sister, with a slight frown. "Did you threaten it?"

Linaer set the potato she'd been peeling onto a plate and wiped her starchy wet hands on her apron, before reaching for the cast-iron frying pan sitting on the coals.

"I told it we had a pan."

Linaer heard a faint pop as her sister stuck her thumb into her mouth.

The pan had already oiled it, already begun heating it. So much the better for bashing monster-heads in. A regular cool frying pan didn't seem to get the message across to all of them, but a hot one… that might actually work. Of course she'd have to wipe monster blood and dribbled oil up off the floor, but it was a small sacrifice. Dinner would be delayed.

"Alright, Elwin take me to your monster."

Elwin took grabbed Linaer's empty hand and began guiding her down the hall.

The air began to grow hot as they progressed down the hall, and with the heat came a very unpleasant sense of foreboding. Halfway down, she stopped and gently pushed Elwin against the wall. "Stay here." She smiled and ruffled the girl's dark wavy hair. "I'll be right back."

She hoped she'd be right back. There was definitely something in the nursery, and it wasn't one of the regulars.

Linaer could feel it's presence like a physical weight and every inch of her body was crawling with gooseflesh begging her to run. But there was nowhere to run. Her sister's safe haven had once again been invaded by another monster, and she had dinner to make, so leaving wasn't in the question. Besides, she had The Frying Pan- no monster had ever dared to cross her after getting bonked in the head with it. This monster would be no different.

For a breathless moment she hesitated outside the ajar door, wiping at the sweat moistening her brow. There was still time to go back. She stole a glance at her sister quietly watching her from afar, with clear blue eyes.

Elwin had never seen her afraid before, and Linaer wasn't about to turn tail in front of her now. She brandished the pan and pushed the door open.

"Get Out!"

What met her gaze, stole her breath away in a whoosh. Enough sense was left to her to remember the pan in her precariously slack grip. If it fell it would probably hit her foot or damage the floor. Her mother would have a fit if she broke her foot or the floor- going on about how she'd taken it too far with her monster battling.

"Who-who-what are you?"

Darkening the corner of the room, was a black mass; both solid and transparent. It moved like a cloud of dense smoke, coiling, and roiling like a cloud. Occasionally a tendril of smoky-cloud would appear as it- was it hovering, or standing? It seemed like smoke, but she could never remember that corner ever being so dark before.

Maybe it was part of the shadow too? The smoke-shadow-being seemed to morph into something vaguely human shaped if not a deal taller, only to lose immediately lose form, until finally she heard an exasperated huff, and the smoke-shadow being fell into its roiling boiling version of stillness.

"You're not from around here. So here's your first and only warning- if I ever see you in this house again I'll cave your head in." Linaer made the threat strongly enough but seriously doubted her pan would do much good against smoke. She'd blow it out the window or something- grab blanket and start waving it in the smoke monster's direction.

The monster uttered a soft disembodied light wheezy series of huffs that left her spine shivering, and skin tingling. This was not good.

"Thou thinkest a pan will harm me? I have been harmed by weapons far greater than pans, and by people who were far more dangerous than little girls."

"So you're dead then? Why aren't you in the Hall of Mandos?" Why did she ask? People who had great fear of the Valar were probably not people she wanted to cross, and already she'd threatened this thing- this more than likely evil thing with a frying pan. Had she really need to ask?

To make matters worse it was making that light whispery mocking wheeze sound again, which she suspected was its version laughter. "In a sense, yes, but I cannot go to Mandos."

Linaer paled as the morphing smoke shape detached itself from the corner and approached her, dragging shadow with it. Backing up a step she raised the frying pan. "Get out."

There was edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. It came closer. "Who are you?!"

"Gorthaur." The smoke spirit stopped in front her coiling and roiling. Gorthaur was vaguely familiar…. It made her uncomfortable. The heat, the darkness, this smoky thing in front of her; everything about the situation was making her uncomfortable. And now the thing-he had introduced himself, giving her a familiar, but elvish name. She felt she should definitely know that name.

How many elves did she know? Gil-galad; killed by some idiot Dark Lord a couple thousand years ago, Elrond the half-elf that had ruled the last homely house in the west before leaving Middle Earth, Galadrial- a beautiful queen from some forest, Arwen the Queen of Gondor had been mostly elf, one of the nine walkers had been an elf with a name that had something to with being legless, and Gorthaur… where had she heard that one before? What did it mean? Wasn't 'Gor' dark or black-no not black-but…okay 'Gor' showed up in other names? How about Gorgoroth: the evil desertous plain in Mordor?

She was not familiar with elf names, but one thing was certain…

"You're not an elfin fea."

_Gorthaur… the name doesn't mean any anything good. If it's the same Gor as in Gorgoroth, it's evil. So the smoke is Evil-thaur. Now what on Earth is a thaur- _it's laughter cut through her thoughts.

She mustered up every bit of her courage to glare at it. "That's a real pity. I've always wanted to meet an elf, but since you _clearly _are not-" Gorthaur had something to do with the first Dark Lord, the real bad one, before-_oh Eru save me- _"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Heart thumping erratically in her chest, Linaer stepped around him, giving him as wide a berth as possible. "A children's play room is no place for fallen elves, grumpy dwarves-" she shoved the nearest window's shutters open- "evil men, or former Dark Lords, so I would appreciate it if you would just leave." She turned toward the smoky menace gesturing at the window.

The sunlight hit him before he could recede and back against the far wall. She watched in a sort of horrified fascinations as the light seemed to be absorbed by the dark smoke before hitting the floor where Gorthaur had been. The smoke monster shifted, and she followed the shifting darkness with her eyes as it edged along the wall.

"I can't leave."

"I can't help my pan colliding with your head."

It laughed again, and the heat intensified. She ignored the uncomfortable dribble of sweat down her cheek, refusing to appear weak. Wasn't he supposed to be cold? Or maybe that was just his nine henchmen?

"And what is that thou think striking at a bodiless entity will accomplish."

He was approaching again, and rather than backing off she forced a foot to slide forward. Then when she thought he was in range she quietly sucked in a breath and blew it at him. With disappointed fascination she watched the smoky shade nearest her dance in her breath's wake, but nothing else happened. It didn't dissipate, didn't recoil, didn't do anything except coil and roil like an angry storm.

"That was valiant-"

The frying pan dispersed the evil entity and collided with the wall with sickening thud. Huffing she lowered the frying pan to see a crescent moon sunken into the wood and paint. Gothraur true to his word was no worse for wear as his incorporeal smoke form thickened into a dense formless mass once more.

"Shut up, and get the Fuck out."

"That is hardly the appropriate manner with which to speak to a guest, and as I said I cannot leave. Seeing as thou hast no means with which to remove me, I intend to remain where I am. Haply, my stay will be but a minor inconvenience to us both-"

"Why can't you leave?"

The darkness became a little denser, and the heat a bit more intense. "He is coming, and I'm not ready to face Him. Haply, his eyes will over look this-" She seemed to fancy him looking around, which made her curious as to how he could see… or talk for that matter. "He will overlook this place, for time yet doth rest in my hand…." He seemed to speaking to himself, as if trying to assure himself he was safe.

"Who is 'He'?"

The slightly solidified black mass regarded her, and she thought she make out the gleam of eyes.

"If thou hast the wit to know me, then thou ought to know Him as easily."

The black mass reverted into a dark cloud of slightly more transparent smoke.

_Morgoth…._

He was returning….

The former Dark Lord of Mordor was in her sister's play room…hiding….

"I will not let you stay here."

"That is a relief, I'd hate to share quarters with a snot-nose brat-"

"No! You must leave. I will not let you stay here. I will run out there shrieking, screaming- she pointed out the window- I'll let the whole of Gondor know where you are, and I'll burn the house down with you in it-"

"Thou shalt do no such thing. Scream, yell, and cry to thy neighbours if thou feel so inclined, but they shall think thee crazy. As for burning the house, that would do naught but leave thee homeless. No, I will stay here, and thou will keep me. In utter silence." The heat in the room flared momentarily. Her hand went to her chest as the air became difficult to breath. The dark mass moved closer, until it was roiling and boiling less than a foot away.

It was like standing too close to a bonfire, the heat wasn't painful, but it was horribly uncomfortable, and Linaer was struggling to breath. The frying pan slipped from her wet fingers, thunking against the floor, leaving another formidable dent, as she backed up toward the window, leaning her head out to suck in precious gulps of slightly cooler air.

The blackness didn't pursue her.

"I will- throw you-in the Void myself." She collapsed against the wall next the window. The air in the nursery was cooling slightly.

"In payment for thy hospitality and discretion I shall not harm thy sister. I think thou ought to bring her in here so the girl knows exactly who to blame should my presence be discovered…"

"Touch my sister," She took a wrathful step forward. "I swear I'll tell Morgoth exactly where he can find you, and how you treasonously hid from him rather than joining him."

Linaer stood and the dark shadowy mass flickered and roiled, and warped itself as it mulled over its perdicament. The soft sound of little feet padding to the door reached their ears and to Linaer's horror Elwin stepped into the doorway.

"We have an accord?" Gorthaur had a grin in his voice.

Linaer glared at the girl in the doorway. "I told you to stay put."

Immediately she averted her gaze to the shadowy mass. She stepped around him making toward her sister, only stopping when Elwin was but an arm's reach away, and she stood between her and the monster.

"This-" she spat out the word like it was bile, before turning her head toward Elwin "monster is not like the others. He's- there was a terrible war between different monsters, and his family was captured, and now he's trying to find them, but he's tired, needs a place rest, and there might be people after him, so what I need you to do is go to the kitchen and start working on the salad mother told you to make."

"He can stay in the nursey then." She offered Gorthaur a wave, before trotting off down the hall. The moment Elwin was gone and Lenaer could hear the unmistakable thumping of a small person climbing onto a counter in pursuit of a large bowl in one of the cupboard she turned to face the dark shadowy mass.

"You are Not staying in the nursery."


	2. The Cat's in the Cradle

**Author's Note: I'm bored. Have another useless chapter.**

**Disclaimer: The previous one said everything... I don't own.**

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**The Cat's in the Cradle  
**

"I hope you find everything to your liking."

Linaer offered him a wicked grin before opening what he assumed was a bedroom door.

The room Gorthaur entered was despicable. He liked colourful environments to an extent. Patterns and colours could invigorate the artist mind, but there was a point to which one could get carried away, and the decorator of this room had not gotten carried away, so much as had gotten violently ill and vomited fuchsia, pale lavenders, and paisley yellow flowers all over the place.

Even the bedspread was a sickening pale pink covered in purple and yellow flowers, that clashed with not only the rest of the room, but with itself as well. He'd stepped into a retina burning hell, and suddenly Morgoth didn't seem quite as bad.

The only thing worse than the colour scheme-or lack thereof was the disorganization of the room's contents; the dolls on the shelves were dust covered and flopped over on each other, all except one which was propped up on a deer skull, the few books on the shelves had no place of their own, and were shoved into whatever space was large enough to fit them, and then there was the desk- at least he assumed it was a desk, because there was a chair covered in wrinkled laundry in front of it, and the thing in question buried under papers and books, but there were too many for it be properly seen .

The bed wasn't even made, and beneath that horribly tacky quilt, bright eye searing yellow sheets could be seen.

The only thing unblemished by pink, flowers, but not disorganization was the closet, and Linaer was rummaging around in it for something. After some thumping she turned and threw the pan onto the bed where it bounce, dribbled oil onto the quilt and sheets, and made the bed moan and creak on impact. He glared at the open closet door.

"It's lovely…" He grimaced at the pan on the bed. If and when he got his physical body back, the first thing he'd do was fix this room, or burn it depending on his mood.

"No one comes in here." Gorthaur scowled. He couldn't imagine why no one would want to enter this room. In Barad'dur there had been dungeons that hadn't been this bad.

"Who's room am I in?"

"It's mine." Linaer smiled at from the closet before disappearing to resume her bumping and thumping. Finally she hauled out a box, dredged from the blackest corner of the closet.

"My mother," she dropped the box on the bed with loud huff. She turned to look at him. "My mother is afraid that the young men won't like me because I'm too feisty and manly for my own good. So she thought it best if I got in touch with my femininity." She gestured around. "This is the current state of rebellion."

"Ah…."

Rebellion… Morgoth revolted against Eru long ago. This girl didn't like being constrained. It was for similar reasons Sauron had joined him. He was an artist, a creator, and working in the smiths kept him confined to the projects other wished fir him to complete, leaving him little time for his own. Morgoth had promised him the time and freedom to pursue his own desires.

Linaer wasn't paying attention to him, as she opened the box. He hoped she pulled out a blindfold, not that she'd be able to tie it around his head or anything, but a bit of sympathy would be appreciated.

Instead she pulled out a navy quilt. "Do you sleep?"

"No."

She frowned, but didn't say anything, and threw it on the chair with the laundry. The frying pan she set on a nearby shelf.

"This will need to be washed." She yanked the quilt off the bed. "Pity I got oil on it." Her voice was laced with sarcasm. The offending sheets were also stripped from the bed. And white sheets, topped with a navy quilt soon replaced them.

They contrasted the rest of the room, but at least it was one less tacky, horribly designed thing to look upon. He tried to avoid looking at the horrid pick quilt and the nasty yellow sheets in crumpled heap on the floor, but the flower-or lumps clumped up ribbon that were supposed to pass as flowers caught his eye. Whoever had sewn the thing, likely realized it was torturous to look upon, and perhaps they'd tried to sew the flowers on to avoid looking at the quilt longer than necessary. Blobs of crumpled ribbon unfortunately had not helped.

"Do you eat?"

He shifted his gaze back to the girl fluffing pillows, now in clean white cases instead of yellow ones with frills and laces. She was probably trying to be civil by asking such a question. Or maybe she hoping she could poison him, not that it'd do any good.

"No."

He could scarcely recall the taste of food; it had been so long since he'd eaten. A question of his own rose to his lips.

"If I am to remain in thy room, then thou art willing to forgo privacy." She paused in her work to scowl, at him.

"I'm not worried about it at all. You're an ancient whatever-you-are that's probably seen everything under the sun already, so I can't imagine I'd fascinate you in the slightest, besides I don't dress in here anyways-"

"Why?"

She was right. He had seen just about everything under the sun, and he seen women far prettier than her. He'd seen Luthien, she had threatened to destroy his physical body, but he didn't deny she'd been the loveliest woman he's ever set eyes upon.

Linaer was ugly compared to that image, and her scowl had been replaced by something deceptively calm as she looked at him. "It doesn't matter."

He didn't believe for a second it wasn't important to her, but he shrugged, because it didn't really matter to him. She could keep her secrets for as long as she was able. He'd undoubtedly learn the truth at some point. If there was one thing he was good at, it was learning every detail of the lives of those around him.

"Linaer-!" An adult's voice was cut off.

"Mother!" Elwin's happy squeal of delight echoed throughout the house.

"Oh shit-stay here!"

Linaer scrambled over the newly made bed, yanked the frying pan from the shelf, leaped over the mound of ugly quilts and sheets, and slammed the door behind her muttering something about being killed, leaving him alone in her hideously pink room.

He stared at the door for some time, listening to the voices coming from the kitchen, unable make much of what said, but it sounded like Linaer might been getting scolded for something.

There was a sound at the door and he receded into the dark shadowy recess of the closet. He watched as a calico cat leaped onto the quilt.

Its large amber eyes gazed into the closet.

Gorthaur frowned at it. He couldn't scare little girls or cats, it seemed. He hated the impotency of his spiritual form. He hated the situation he found himself in. Morgoth could give him his physical body back, but in order for that to happen he had to actually face Morgoth and the ridicule and laughter that would inevitably come with that meeting.

"What dost thou see?"

"Meow," the cat answered, before flopping down on its side and stretching.


	3. Family Affairs

**Author's Note: Hmm, can I make a Cracks of Doom pun? This is a sort of crack-fic after all… for the moment anyways. **

**Disclaimer: I own baby dragons of Flight Rising, anyone who plays please consider buying them. As for this fanfic, I own nothing.**

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**Family Affairs  
**

Linaer glared down at the potatoes sizzling and hissing in the frying pan. Her mother had been furious at what she perceived to be chore shirking in favor of indulging her fantasies. Angry as Linaer was, she didn't really blame her mother for getting upset. Apparently the gift of seeing things that rendered her and Elwin freaks of nature had skipped her mother's generation, or the ability to see monsters had come from their father. Whatever the case was, her mother was convinced Elwin's monsters were imaginary, and that hers were little more than a method of indulging Elwin in play, and Linaer had long since given up trying to change her mind.

She still hadn't told her mother about the dented wall in the nursery yet, but it seemed Elwin had spontaneously decided to start drawing, and had hung her picture up right on top of it.

"How are those potatoes coming along?"

Linaer frowned at the tiny cubes of pepper and paprika laden potato. "Excellent."

"Well the certainly smell excellent." She heard the rustle of her mother's skirts as she strode into the kitchen. Linaer's frustrations slipped away as her pale cool arms wrapped around her shoulders and a pair of lips kissed the side of her head.

"There's something I've wanting to tell you girls," her mother's voice spoke from above and behind, "but I was a little too upset to remember earlier- you really need to let the monsters go." Linaer tensed as her mother released her.

"For a while now we've been expecting a new addition to our family."

Linaer dropped the spatula, beaming at her mother's wistful and misty expression. "He proposed!? Mother that's wonderful."

Her mother laughed. "I've waited long enough for that rascal. He can kill sever an Easterling' head from its body, but trembled and shook and stuttered like a child when he asked. He's such an idiot, but he was such an adorable idiot at that moment, that I knew I had to keep him."

Linaer burst in a fit of laughter and so did her mother.

She'd only met Balakân a few times, and he was quite roguish in appearances, unshaven and with unruly hair that made a mess of itself as it was being brushed, tall strong, covered in scars, black-haired, and green-eyed. He was in appearance the image that came to mind when one said ranger… until one got to know him.

He wasn't somber, but possessed a sort of misplaced joviality, that somehow contrasted and complimented his outward appearance. Her mother needed someone like that, and if…

Linaer sobered though she kept her grin in place. If Morgoth really was coming like the former Dark Lord of Mordor had said, then they all needed someone like that in their lives….

"Anyways…." Her mother cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes, while trying to hold back another laugh. "He won't be only one joining our family…."

Linaer frowned. Balakân had a lot of dogs, which might not make the cats currently in residence very happy, but- she frowned at her mother's face. By all appearances she seemed trying to be trying to hide a blush. Linaer had always known her mother and Balakân had been spend far too much time with each other, especially in the evenings, for it to have only been talking.

Another younger sibling, and one that wouldn't have its sisters' ability to see monsters. "You and Elwin will have a new younger sibling. With any luck it'll be a boy, so that you won't have to play 'brother' for Elwin anymore, and can finally turn into a proper lady." Linaer flipped the potatos in the pan.

_Way to kill the mood Mother. You should that lecherous old cank that keeps peeping through my window every time I change if I'm not feminine enough, and then we discuss my marriage to him. He even tried to break in once-_

Linaer scraped some potato skin from the bottom of the pan that had saved her and Elwin from than just monsters. Her mother didn't notice her soured mood, which was good. If the world was going to end soon, there wasn't much point in spoiling her mother's festive fervor. She deserved to be happy, after losing her first husband and son within hours of each other.

"Balakân has suggested naming it Azruzôr after your father."

Linaer smiled as she scraped hardening potato skins from the bottom of the pan.

"I'm happy for you. I can't wait to see your wedding." She hugged her mother with a smile.

Her mother returned the hug, planting another kiss on her head.

"Not as happy as I'll be seeing you wed."

Linaer would have thrown up her hands if her mother hadn't been hugging her. As it was she wormed out the hug. "Someday I will, I just, I don't want to now."

"You're fifteen and it's time you started looking for a good man to settle down with. I'm not asking you to go drag someone off the street, and come home with him, but the longer you wait the fewer options there' be." Her mother had no idea how few options there really would be soon… once Morgoth returned. "But at least find a man. If you want to wait to marry him, fine, but you need at least be searching."

Linaer wanted to bury her face in the frying pan.

"First Elwin, now you."

"Elwin?" Her mother's quizzical voice rose over the sizzle of flipping potatoes as Linaer felt the urge to stir them.

"Yeah," Linaer sighed. "She went on and on this morning after you left, about how awesome it would be to be an aunt."

"You see?" She turned to see her mother frowning. "You've never let your sister down, would you let her down now?"

_In this case, YES…. _Linaer bit back a scowl. The best way to end the conversation was to avoid talking. "You're sister has more sense than you." Her mother jabbed a finger at her chest.

"Listen to her."

"Yes Mother."

Her mother smiled and pecked Linaer's forehead.

"Now hurry and get those potatoes, finished. And you _will_ be going to the Light Festival this year."

"Yes Mother." Linaer responded, keeping as much cynicism as she could from leeching into voice, because searching for suitors at the stupid lantern party was so important when she had a former dark lord in her bedroom.

_I would love to see the look her face if I were to tell her that, of course she'd probably try to play matchmaker and-_Linaer snorted, imaging her mother going off on tirade about the3 wonders of love and matrimony to the shadowy remains of Sauron- _he'd probably leave._

Linaer buried a laugh as she flipped the potatoes again.


	4. The First of Many

**Author's Note: After messaging a friend-*glares lovingly at said friend*- I am overly excited for this story, more than I am for RITD. Anyways, I may write a brief Morgoth/Sauron fic in which I delve briefly into their messed up relationship-leading up to a rather messy of divorce proceedings. **

**I wish to apologize to that friend, and to anyone else reading this...it seems between the time I wrote the NA and actually managed to finish this chapter I have fallen beneath a cloud of stress induced funk. This was not as well written as it could have been. Hopefull RITD won't suffer as badly...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even a cat! D:**

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**The First of Many  
**

Without even so much as a knock to announce herself the girl that had rudely attempted to sucker smack him with a frying pan swept into her pink and lacy hell of the bedroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary behind her.

"Hi Spooks," she greeted the cat with a frown, before throwing flopping herself onto the bed. Irritated at the crassness with which its mistress shook the mattress, it leapt from the bed and sauntered toward the door, indignantly flicking its tail as it went.

The girl uttered a long winded sigh and dragged a pillow into her face.

Gorthaur stared a moment. Despite how pleasant the scent of spices and fried potatoes hung in the air, dinner had apparently not been such a pleasant affair.

"Push harder against the pillow if thou art attempting suicide."

After a pause, the pillow inched lower revealing a single leery blue eye. It watched him not with hate or fear, but with caution and distrust. It could have been minutes or hours that she laid there staring at him with that single eye watching him from beneath the shadow of a pillow, until at last; she sat up and pushed the pillow aside.

"I'm not trying to kill myself, I'm… frustrated. Wait a few weeks until my cramps kick in and I'll be greatly in need of a quick method to end my life. I appreciate the help though."

She didn't sound like she really cared about his advice. Her eyes were on the quilt and she was picking at a piece of lint or something. At a loss Gorthaur let it go. It was a pity she wasn't trying to kill herself tonight. It was better if she did, because when He arrived, she and a lot of other mortals were going to wish they'd died.

"What should I call you?"

"What?"

She frowned at him. "What should I call you? If I'm going to be keeping your presence here secret I need to call you something, and Sauron is rather memorable. Gorthaur- I don't even read that much and I was able to figure that one out, so do you have an alias of some sort?"

For a long while Gorthaur stared at her bowed head with a frown. She was still focused on whatever it was that was on the quilt's surface.

"What is so exciting about a piece of lint?"

She looked up at him with a frown. "'What Is So Exciting About A Piece Of Lint?' That's a rather long name. You don't have something a bit shorter do you?"

"Call me Zigûr, and don't do that."

"It's force of habit. I have a younger sister that tries to change the subject when I ask her something she doesn't like."

"I'm not thy sister."

The girl didn't respond to that. She just got up, fluffed the pillow, and moved toward the desk.

"My name's Linaer."

She needed to make the pile of papers on her desk even larger, or messier somehow. Her mother had been furious, especially since Linaer turned into a tornado of chaos after the room had been recently painted, but still.

"For one who hates my presence, thou art being rather accommodating."

At that the girl shrugged. "The frying pan didn't work, and I haven't come up with a second method of removal."

There was also a chance his presence might keep the other monsters at bay, but she didn't dare tell him that. She shoved all the clean laundry-the needed to be hung up-on to her bed, and sat down in the chair to begin the long and boring task of ripping up the paper into pieces and strips. She needed something to occupy her time, and under no condition was she going to pass out with a former dark lord in her closet.

There was a sound at the cat flap, and Linaer turned her head, to see pink toes wiggling in the gap.

"Elwin, what are you doing."

Zigûr merely watched from the shade of the closet as Linaer stood, and Elwin pushed open the door and let herself in. She was holding a candle in one hand, and a stack of papers in the other.

"I came to say goodnight."

Without further prompt the sisters embraced.

"Goodnight Elwin." Linaer planted a kiss in the young girl's hair

"Now with you," she smiled giving her sister a nudge, but she slipped away from her older sister and came toward him.

Candle dancing, and papers crinkling she wedged herself through the narrow gap between the chair and bed.

"Uh, Elwin-"

She stopped in front of him, and Zigûr honestly wondered by giant dark shadows didn't terrify these people in the least, or at least the little one; the eldest seemed to be worried about her sister coming so close, but she wasn't screaming or begging, like she believe his oath not to harm the little one hadn't been a lie.

Perhaps there was a bit of Numenor-

"I made you a map!" She shoved the papers at him. "It's to help you find your family. All the pages are numbered so you can put them together. I needed it big 'cause I wasn't sure if you have eyes, and I wanted you to see it."

"Uh-"

He looked over her toward Linaer, but the older girl was utterly flabbergasted.

The girl standing before began rifling in the long sleeve of her night shift, before pulling out something weird. It was, upon closer inspection a shell with feathers tied to it, with on odd assortment of fabric scraps glued to it.

"I made you a good luck charm." She beamed up at him proudly, and he wondered in what sort of outlandish hell he may have wandered into. "It's to keep the bad guys away while you look for your family."

At a complete and utter loss he stared down at the girl as if she were a strange and interesting bug he'd never seen before. Not in a long time had anyone ever given him something for the sake of giving him something. The whole situation was weird.

Always-well for most his life anyways- he had one to be feared, and then he'd wandered into this place where one person was shoving gifts in his face, and the other who knew him didn't seem overly horrified by him.

"Uh…" He wondered if Morgoth hadn't gotten out a bit early was going to suddenly appear chortling about how this had been a joke.

"Um, Elwin, Sweety." He almost sighed in relief, as Linaer moved toward them. She was glaring at him rather dangerously. "Zigûr is tired. Just set those on the desk, and he'll get them when he leaves."

As soon as Elwin had set them down, Linaer was half pulling and half walking her away toward the door. "He needs to get his rest, and so do you."

She planted a kiss in the young girl's hair, before successfully ushering her out.

"Goodnight Lin, night Zigûr." She offered him a wave before departing.

Linaer sat on the bed, with her head in her hands. In a way he felt like doing the same.

"My sister-"

The door opened making and Elwin popped her head in. Peering passed her sister she looked directly in the dark closet, and Zigûr wished the closet was darker and deeper.

"I'll pray for you!"

She shut the door, leaving the room's occupants to suffer in a very awkward silence.


	5. Outing and Innings

**Author's Note: My push to get out as many chapter as possible has killed my motivation, but sadly not my muse. This story isn't going to write itself though…**

**Soon this story will deviate from being crack and become much more serious. Hence the reason for my calling it crack-ish. **

**Disclaimer: I wonder how much Morgoth would willing to sell Sauron for.**

* * *

**Outings and Innings **

With a groggy yawn, Linaer stretched wincing at a horrible pain in her neck. The light of the sun gave her salmon pink curtains an orangey hue. Sitting up she wiped a paper scrap from her face. She was alive. She'd fallen asleep with former Dark Lord's ghost in room, and she was alive… or death was far more uncomfortable than she'd been led to believe.

Her hackles rose, and she turned her head toward the abyssal smoke cloud loitering between her dresses. But her greeting of, "Good morning," sounded pleasant enough considering who she was dealing with.

Slowly she sat up, rubbing at her neck. Maybe she put her head back down in the opposite direction for a while to relieve it.

"Linaer!" Her mother's voice rang out.

"I'll be back." She sighed. Of course she'd be back- it was her room.

Crusty eyed, and in desperate need of tea, Linaer wandered down the hall into the kitchen.

"For heaven's sake, did you sleep in your clothes again!?"

Linaer's gaze landed on the steaming kettle of water on the counter. It was very apparent she'd fallen asleep in her day clothes…again. There was a time when her mother used to say 'good morning,' or 'hello, how was your sleep Dearie?' before finding something to pick at. She was fairly positive her mother's new approach to morning greetings was due to her disapproval of Linaer's procrastination in the marriage department. At least that's what seemed plausible.

"I'm taking Elwin into town with me. Can you do me the favour of watching the house?"

"Yes Mother-"

"I'm ready! Morning Lin!" Elwin came bounding into the room, with a small coin purse jingling in her hand.

Linaer gave her sister a one armed hug deeply engrossed in inhaling the minty steam rising from the cup in her hand.

"We'll be back in a couple hours. Feed the cats, and get dressed." Her mother gave her a brief hug.

"Sure."

Her mother let out a sigh. "Did you not sleep last night?" Then her mother's face turned shrewd. "Were you up battling monsters again?"

Linaer frowned into her mug. No she had not. She'd stayed up because instead of battling monsters, she'd invited one into her room. Telling her mother the former Lord of Mordor was in her closet would not go over well, and then there was his threat for breaking silence to consider-

Her mother half groaned and half growled, "How many times have I told you-"

"It's my fault Mother!" Elwin piped from the front door where she stood impatiently waiting. "I made Lin stay up," her eyes were downcast, and the toe of her right foot was making circles as it often did when she was in trouble. "I wanted her to tell me dragon stories." Elwin offered her mother a contrite smile.

Linaer fought to keep her face blank, as Elwin offered her Mother a seemingly genuine apology. The girl was adorably angelic, but her penchant for lying was a bit scary, but the display was enough to convince their mother, so Linaer just waved her hand, as if brushing aside the apology.

"Don't worry about it."

Elwin's guilt ridden face lit up like a firework, and Linaer risked a scalding sip of tea, to keep from doing anything that ruin her sister's performance.

"Alright," her mother gave Elwin a stern look. "Don't keep your sister up so late anymore." She placed a gentle hand on her youngest child's head.

"We'll be back in a few hours. Do you want anything?"

Linaer frowned. What did she want? Vacating the evil entity from her room would be lovely, but she couldn't ask for that.

"No. I'm fine…" She looked around the kitchen trying to remember if there was anything they were low on that her mother might not have noticed. Linaer had long since taken over the majority of the house's cooking… well the frying anyways, but she was skilled in all aspects of the kitchen and she prided herself on her skills, and the delight her occasional experiments brought to others.

"I don't think I need anything, thanks though."

Her mother nodded and Elwin wrenched open the door running into the street.

"Love you," her mother smiled.

"I love you too."

Her mother blew her a kiss, and slipped out the door. Linaer chuckled as heard her mother's voice scolding Elwin for running off. She took another sip of tea, before her smile faded.

Watch the house, feed the cats, and babysit a former Dark Lord- what a great morning she'd woken up to.

She'd feed the cats first.

* * *

Three small plates of chicken bits from the previous night's dinner and thee bowls of fresh water were set against the wall in the dining room. Spook hastily appeared from seemingly nowhere as soon as the first plate had clinked against the floorboards.

Giving his mottled orange and black head a passing scratch she made her way down the hall and to her room.

"My mother and sister have left, so if you want to…escape this pink prison, feel free. I'm going to go get dressed," she trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how she'd be able to reach into the closet without having to get near the ugly dark menace filling the space with night.

The suddenly roiling in the smoky shade made her heart beat a tad bit faster, as she waited for a response. Then Zigur rose, in the same silent manner as a smoke cloud, until he was just shy of the ceiling. On an unfelt breath of air he sailed under the pale wood above giving it a hazy black look, before drifting out the door.

Linaer stood there watching the empty doorway. If they handed out prizes for creepiness, the former Dark Lord should have won. Shaking herself, she hastened toward the closet, grabbed the first dress she put her hand on and ripped it from the hanger, before bolting for a room where she could change in private.

* * *

Zigur watched the girl slip down the hall with a dress in her arms before turning a corner and disappearing. He couldn't fathom why she wouldn't just change in her own room. It was possible it was presence unnerving her, but mentioned changing in another room as if this something she typically did, so if it wasn't him- it didn't matter.

He had far to worry about than the odd habits of a human girl. His former master was- a meow cut off his line of thought. A peach coloured cat was splayed across a counter basking in the sunlight of a nearby window.

Zigur's metaphorical heart skipped a beat, as it held his gaze with those eyes. Someone else he'd known long ago had possessed eyes like those. Unperturbed, by the presence of a horrific shadowy monster in front of it, the cat shifted onto its side and watched him with one half-closed amber eye.

Backing up, Zigur looked toward the empty hallway, back at the cat, and back to the hall again. "Linaer…?" He hoped his voice was just loud enough to reach her.

The calico cat from the night before appeared in the hall. Without sparing him a passing glance it sauntered passed him and disappeared into the dining room.

"Uh, Linaer."

* * *

Linaer tugged at her sleeves trying and so far failing to pull them over her shoulders. Zigur's voice reached her a second time.

"I'll be there in a second!" She couldn't imagine what the former Dark Lord could possibly want, or why he sounded… anxious. What made a Dark Lord nervous? Huffing in exasperations she gave up on the stupid ruffled sleeves. She'd left the frying pan in the kitchen, so if she needed it, she'd have to see whatever it was that was bothering Zigur.

"Come here Ziggy." She scooped a white fluff ball off the floor. The cat whined in protest, and grumpily settled into her arms. "You don't mind being my weapon do you?"

If she couldn't reach the frying pan, she could try throwing the cat at the monstrous invaders or Zigur even- if it came to it. She wouldn't really, but a yowling, hissing, flying, fluffy projectile ripping a former Dark Lord a new one, was… a very nice image.

"You called." Linaer pulled the fluffy cat against her breast. It whined, but she ignored it, giving the kitchen her attention. Apart from her forgotten cup of tea-which Zigur may have poisoned- still sitting on the counter nothing appeared amiss.

"How many cats do you have?" From the movements of the smokiness she got the impression he was looking around

Linaer raised an eyebrow. Ea was reclining on the counter where he shouldn't have been. Spook was somewhere around the house, and the cat with A-Thousand-Names was in her arms.

"Three. Why?"

The vaporous remains of Sauron roiled and coiled, like a turbulent sea, as he processed her words. Then very abruptly, he slipped passed her. The cat in her arms hissed at him, but Zigur didn't respond. He quietly slipped into her horribly pink room.

"That was rude…ish," Linaer chastised the snowy fur ball, giving the white cat's head a quick kiss before placing her on the floor.

Linaer dumped her tea out a window before she poured herself a new one. Zigur, probably hadn't poisoned it but there was no sense in risking it, and she doubted he'd give her a straight answer regardless of whether he had or hadn't. And revealing to him she was worried over such things was probably not a good idea either.

A few times in her work, she paused to look over her shoulder, but the hall remained empty.

"Ea, what did you do to him?" The cat ignored her, favoring to study a bird hopping along the sill outside. Huffing, at the cat's blatant disregard for higher authority, Linaer sipped her tea, and quietly headed to her room. She couldn't imagine what had come over him, and the notion that he was afraid of cats -amusing as it was- didn't fit with the merciless Dark Lord image of Sauron years of being forced to read had instilled in her mind.

"Are you alright?" The question was out before Linaer could bite her tongue. The dark shadowy mass sat hanging over the foot of her bed like a storm cloud... all that was needed now, was a bit of rain.

"Am I alright?" The feel voice of a former Dark Lord emanated from the dark shadowy mass. "I am well."

Linaer bit the inside of her cheek, nothing in his voice or the storm cloud image in her head conjured up any feeling of wellness. "No, you're not."

There was a momentary heat flare, but Linaer refused to step back away. "Dost thou really care?"

Keeping the shadowy mass in the corner of her eye, Linaer shut the door. "Keep your secrets if you feel so inclined." She leaned against the wall as casually as possible. "Whatever floats your boat. You don't have to talk, but sulking isn't going to do you any favours. Besides, this might be the only chance we get to talk openly without having to worry about being overheard."

"I can't imagine it was my welfare that has brought thee here." Zigur uttered what sounded like a derisive snort. "I trust by 'talk' thou art referring to the return of my former master."

Linaer, eyed him over her cup. "Are you more willing to discuss that, than whatever happened in the kitchen?"

A heavy silence followed, as the shadowy cloud and the girl regarded each other.

"I remembered something. Someone to be more precise. Someone I haven't seen in a very long time." Zigur's voice was soft, and it compelled her to approach. To lean in and listen, but she refrained. She didn't want to get close to him, and she didn't want to appear intrigued by the prospect learning some mysterious person from a Dark Lord's past, that she'd probably never wish to meet in her lifetime.

"Were they dear to you?" So much for letting the subject go. She wondered if Sauron could even imagine one person being important to another. If his actions were anything go by, the answer was a 'no.'

"No..." Zigur's voice trailed off. "I forgot his name, when I needed him most."

A frown formed on Linaer's lips, and she took a sip, then another, and then a third that was longer than the previous two, wincing as her tongue and throat burned. She breathed out her mouth to cool it, still unsure of how she was supposed to respond to that.

"What is it that thou wisheth to know my Master's coming?"

Normally Linaer tended not to approve of subject changes. Having a deceitful, manipulative, overly cute little sister tended to make her rather suspicious of such things, but she let it go. She had a feeling the dark cloud of doom and gloom hanging over her bed wouldn't take well to being pestered.

Linaer chewed her burned tongue, wincing as she minced the soft flesh between her teeth. She knew what she wanted to ask, but she wasn't she wanted to know the answer. Maybe ignorance was bliss. Maybe it was best for her and her family if she didn't learn of the future... from the Father of Lies. Maybe he would lie. Maybe he wouldn't. Several different scenarios of this conversation swirled about her head, and above them all hung that one torturous question...

Was it worth asking? She glared at him, trying to glean some sort of inkling of what might come from the roiling swirling mists of ether. Nothing presented itself.

Very carefully she took a sip of tea, this time mindful of her tongue, before very carefully setting the cup down on a nearby shelf.

"What will happen after he returns?"

The smoke seemed to condense a moment, thickening into a darker shade of black. It settle low over the foot of her bed as if needing to sit. For a split second the cloud looked man shaped, in the same instant becoming a cloud once more. Linaer clenched the palm of her hand in painfully tight fingers. If he was hoping to make her squirm he was doing an excellent job.

When at last he spoke, Zigur's voice was flawless monotone.

"The world will end."

* * *

**I know I forgot to put the ^ thing over the 'Us' in Zigur's name. I'm feeling a bit to lazy, and I'm in a bit too much of a hurry at the moment to run off to the Tolkien gateway and start copying and pasting. There's probably a way to manually type it in- I lack the computer savyness to do it. I'll worry about it later.  
**


	6. Much Ado about Art

**Author's Note: Here it is, another continuation of this drabble. I'm really tired. I have no idea why, and I can't focus on anything, so I'm going to write this. I really want to write, right now, and I have no motivation. My person projects currently suck, because I've been like this for a couple days now… and RITD (with Herumor's stupid dialogue) demands fa r too much brain power than what I currently possess. **

**I've turned my profile into a progress report regarding some of my better stories, so if you're looking to see how about long a story will be, why I'm procrastinating, or vague spoilers, I'd encourage you to look there. **

**Disclaimer: I don't Sauron, because if I did I'd call him Mairon- which I think translates to 'Mine, and Only Mine-' and hug him. But I don't, so I won't do either of those things. But a brain fried college student (where zombies actually come from) can dream right?**

* * *

**Much Ado about Art**

Zigûr stared as the girl very calmly reached for the tea she'd just set down. She sniffed at it, and a tiny smile coiled about her mouth. She took a sip, and looked at his shadowy form. All traces of her previous amusement were gone, replaced by a calmness he had not expected, and wasn't exactly prepared to deal with. Curses, ranting, screaming… all those made sense to him, and considering that he was dealing with a snot-nosed adolescent had all been very likely scenarios he'd planned to deal with, but silence, and a sort of calmness and clarity in her gaze that bordered on serenity, not so much.

He wanted her to talk. He wasn't privy to the minds of others as he once had been, and he wanted to understand exactly what was going on in her head. Maybe her silence was the calm before the storm, or maybe she thought he was lying. He wasn't-

"Thank you," she breathed. With that smile once again in place she turned to leave.

"Thank you?" He couldn't fathom why he'd just received her thanks. Why anyone would be thankful for the world's end baffled him. Even he wasn't looking forward to it, and he'd have his hand in it soon enough. Then there was the fact people didn't normally thank him for things in the first place, to consider.

The teen was nodding, her dark head of brown waves swaying. That smile was still in place. There was gleam in her eye, one that he'd seen before in the eye of many. Lust. "There are many things I've wished to do, and you just helped me prioritize, so thank you."

"What have I helped thee prioritize?"

Her smile was growing, and he didn't miss the way she wrung her hands together. "My projects, of course." The smile bloomed into a grin and the lust in her gaze intensified as it mixed with excitement. "I'm an artist."

Then she was gone, and he was left floating over her bed in a mix of curiosity and confusion. The conversation had certainly not gone in the direction he'd planned.

After a moment he followed the sound of her eager footsteps. He'd been an artist once… when he still had hands. It was… rather invigorating seeing that passion in another, though he doubted very much that her talent lay in smithying. He hadn't seen a forge on his way in.

* * *

The girl's 'art' as she called it, was cooking. The Culinary Arts she'd snapped at him –to be precise- for his initial disapproval, but once he'd taken to hanging in the rafters he watched her go about her business in silence. Her work was swift and diligent, as she poured, mixed, sautéed, fried, boiled, and stirred all manner of ingredients.

Then she momentarily ran out the front door scissors in her hand. He sunk lower, but she wasn't near any of the windows, and he didn't dare follow her outside and risk being carried off by some evil zephyr.

When she returned, she came not with fruits or vegetables, as he'd guessed, but an arm load of flowers- that after stirring some frying potatoes, tasting the contents of one pot, and pulling the lids off a few other odd dishes-she began to sort into piles.

The flowers were arranged, and there he did take an interest, if only because loitering in the rafters while she wasn't actively moving was getting boring. There he offered some advice; suggesting places to cut various stems to add greater variance to the flowers' height, and make them each easier to view while making the bouquets more eye catching as a whole.

"I never suspected you of liking flowers." Linaer frowned as she put flowers into a small vase.

"I fancy flowers… of a different kind. But the aesthetics of a room has been a priority of mine in the past."

"Really?" Linaer poured water in the last of the vases. All she needed now was a table cloth, and then she could put the vases down, and that would make counter space for her.

"If one were going to live in the same place in the same place for several thousand years, minus a brief stint in Numenor, and vacation in Mirkwood," Linaer nodded as she hurried down. It was excitement more than necessity that made her hurry. Although she was sure the soup could use a stir, and the potatoes a good flip. "Would it not make sense to create a space as habitable and pleasing to be in as possible?!"

"Yeah, I guess so!" Linaer flung open the closet door in the washroom, and pulled out a pristine white table cloth. "But you're speaking of Barad'dûr!"

Linaer shuddered as the room darkened and grew inexplicably warm.

"What of Barad'dûr?"

Clutching the folded table cloth to her chest, Linaer turned. Squinting she peered into darkness on the opposite side of the room, where the dim light from the doorway failed to reach. Occasionally she thought she could make out the coiling smoke, but she couldn't be certain, and now probably wasn't the best time to be playing peekaboo with former dark lords.

She ran her words over in her head. Yes, they could have been offensive, and apparently they had been.

He had built a city that looked evil, and had been filled with it…. Would calling his evil looking fortress evil make him happy or upset him? If he'd been aiming for that outcome, it would probably appease him, but if the city's overall appearance had been nothing more than the result of his very interesting taste in design, it might not help.

"Sorry."

She didn't really sorry, but it was probably best to keep her lips sealed for the moment.

"All I've ever heard is how dark the stone was." It was a terrible excuse, but it was true. When people were bored and critiquing old architecture they critiqued Barad'dur as they did many other cities. The dark stone was always the first thing to come up, often before the builder was mentioned. The city's size had earned it a few favorable points, but in the end it was forgotten; buried beneath the splendor of Minas Tirith.

"I assumed the inside was similar to the outside." Full of darkness, disgruntled orcs, and sharp stabbing things that probably served as parting gifts for any guests he may have entertained.

"Thy ignorance is expected…."

Linaer didn't like the way his voice trailed off, and she was pretty sure the potatoes needed to be flipped again….

"I didn't mean to offend you."

Zigûr smirked. There was edge of guilt in her voice, which suited him fine. For there to be manipulation there had to be emotions on which to build.

"Yes, I built Barad'dûr with the intent making a statement. I was a Dark Lord then, and I wanted the world to see me for what I was. I couldn't have been anything else. But the Dark Tower was my home and whether thou art willing to believe or not, there was no finer place for one to spend their days. But of course thou wouldst not be privy to that, as I did not have the pleasure of entertaining many guests, and few of them ever bothered to leave for undo amounts of time. There is something to be said for waking up at the top of the world, surrounded by gold and mahogany, silk and velvet, with the most delectable foods and wines; tempting to even the pickiest palette, waiting on a nearby tray."

He moved forward, until he was sure she could see him. He hovered over her like the blackest of storm clouds, content to stare down at her.

"Appearances are often deceiving."

The girl frowned.

"And I believe there may be something burning-"

The girl was gone, the sound of her naked feet thumping across the wood to rescue her beloved 'art' trailing behind her. Zigûr uttered a quick laugh before trailing after her.

* * *

Much to Linaer's relief the potatoes had browned a bit more than they ought to, but had not burned. She doused them in black pepper before sprinkling them in celebratory paprika. She'd saved them in the nick of time, and she had a former dark lord to thank for that…sort of. Maybe. She wished she could have offered him some, just to see what he thought of the food he'd rescued.

He was up in the rafters again, and periodically she glanced upward at her resident smoke cloud. She stirred the soup, and checked on the bread loaves; wheat, cinnamon raison, and rye. Then like a mother hen, she hovered a few other things she had yet to but in the oven above the fire.

Unable to do anything more, she turned her attention to the table where she'd thrown the piled white cloth in a heap in her haste to save the potatoes.

She unfurled it and watched it billow out before trapping air as it fell across the table. Zigur scowled. The air from the waved table cloth had turned his smoke resembling fea into turbulent sea of darkness.

The air was filled with all manner of delicious scents and smells, and Zigûr wished he could indulge in food, not because he needed food, but because it would have felt good to distract himself from the world in such a wonderful way. Food was something he'd always enjoyed. It kept his mind and hands occupied when he needed to escape from the world. He almost envied the mortals that would be sitting at that table later. It didn't help that he caught Linaer taking exaggeratedly deep breaths from the time, with a smile on her face. How was it fair that so small a thing could delight her and that he could partake?

He'd have a physical body soon enough. When his master returned he'd be healed, and the world would be set straight. The first spare moment he had afterward; he was going to eat.

"Zigûr, where do you think the food should go, in relation to the vases?"

In a silent mass of tattered black smoke cloud, Zigûr descended, and covered the table in a dark shroud.

"Thou wisheth for all the flowers to be on the table. I think thou ought to start with those, and center the food around them…."

Linaer watched as the former Dark Lord drew back to hover a short distance away. Under his gaze she went about setting the table as she was able to.

"Three live this house. Why dost thou set the table for four?"

Zigûr was met with a wicked grin. "Oh I thought you might have changed your mind about the secrecy thing… you are our guest after all, and I'd hate to see you cooped up in my room." Linaer's voice held nothing but sarcasm.

"I've cooked too much food, and my mother's going to have a cow, and then some, when she sees this, so I'm trying to weasel my way out of deep trouble into milder trouble."

"Ah. If thou wert already aware, why then did thou feel the need to do this?"

Linaer fixed the smoke cloud with a steady gaze. "I'm an artist. One of my desires in life has been to cook a feast, and unless I do so soon, I may likely never have the chance. The trouble's worth it, and besides, with all this food we'll need an extra mouth at the table this evening. And my mother's pregnant…" In an instant Linaer's eyes lit with excitement, now burned with cold fury. "I'll have a younger sibling that I'll never get to meet, because your bloody Master has such an impeccable sense of timing."

She flung a spoon at him, and they both watched as it passed through harmlessly and clattered against the wall and floor.

"Why! Why?! What does he hope to gain destroying everything? What do you hope to achieve?"

Here was tirade Zigûr had thought he'd miraculously avoided. Next would come the 'I hate yous' and 'Do know about loves' and the 'how could yous.' Linaer may very well have uttered any one or all of those if a squeal from the window hadn't cut her off the moment she opened her mouth again.

Face suddenly pale, she looked toward the window. "My family's back. You need to go." She shot him a glare hoping to make the message that 'this conversation is far from over', was clear. Zigûr didn't bother to respond to her, and he quietly departed, sinking into the cool darkness of the girl's closet. Even in her room, he could clearly smell cinnamon and sausage, among other mouthwatering scents. His nonexistent stomach grumbled.

* * *

Hastily Linaer threw sausages and sautéed onions and peppers into a bowl. She dumped a pot of rice into another bowl. She grabbed a tray of cookies, fought them out of the tray she'd cooked them in, and dumped them on a plate. The last steps were to put the food items on the table, wait, and get yelled out, preferably in that order.

Her wait wasn't long, and her mother's eyes narrowed into slits of black ice as she stared at the table laden in food.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her mother's voice was deadly soft. She wondered if Zigûr was listening and how willing he'd be to rescue her if or when her mother decided to rip her head off.

Linaer shifted her feet. "I was thinking we could invite Balakân for lunch. I'm just really excited, and I wanted to make cookies to celebrate your happiness, but I got a little carried away, and … you know…."

"Cookies!" Elwin scampered into the house with Spook in her arms. She unceremoniously dropped the cat, and scrambled to the table, grabbing for the sweets.

Linaer felt like she was shrinking under her mother's glare, and her mother by comparison was growing larger. Elwin despite her cuteness, wasn't helping matters.

"Uh, Elwin…" Linaer's voice was an anxious whisper. She didn't dare take her eyes off her mother. "Did you leave any groceries outside?"

"Oh right!" With a cookie firmly in hand Elwin flounced out the door.

Alone with her mother once more, the air was growing incredibly thick and tense. "Send for him." Her mother's voice was a cold and furious command. Without a word Linaer ran passed her trying to give her as wide a space as possible as if she might strike at her with a lightning bolt or something.

Spine tingling and hackles quivering Linaer ran down the street a ways, until her house was out of site. Slowing to a walk she tried to convinvce herself that if her mother knew the end was coming Linaer's binge cooking would have been overlooked or maybe even appreciated. She wasn't in the wrong. The end was coming, and why shouldn't she have been trying to knock as many things off her bucket list as possible?

Her reasoning didn't make the guilt go away. It made her feel worse, if anything. Shouldn't her mother know what was coming? But if she told her mother what was coming, she'd have to explain how she knew, and Zigûr's threat toward her sister still hung in the air.

Her head was spinning, and her shoulders were slumped when she stepped to the house Balakân stayed in. She heard the barking of his dogs through the door. It was very nice of the resident family to permit him to stay.

"Who-good morning Linaer!"

Linaer forced a smile. "Good morning Lômiphel. I'm looking for Balakân. Is he here?"

"Yeah he should be… let me go see."

Lômiphel disappeared into the dim confines of her home, leaving Linaer to stand at the door, not she minded. Lômiphel was nice, but Linaer had often found her company to be rather dull. The girl was soft-spoken and demure, while possessing a strange fondness for books and silence that stood in stark contrast with Linaer's entire life. She'd never been fond of silence or books, and she'd leaned a long time ago, demure people got stepped on.

"Hoho! My dear Linaer!"

Linaer's forced smile turned into a real one as Balakân appeared in the hall, dressed in a tan shirt and dark pants. He hugged her the moment he slipped outside the door. "How's your mother?"

"She's wonderful! In fact she's invited you to lunch. I sort went overboard with the cooking this morning, and we need help eating it."

At that the ranger laughed. "Perhaps, Azrubêl's family had better join us then. I haven't had a chance to pay them in full yet, and a good cooked meal might be a good way to do it, before I meet with the boys from Minas Tirith, and head east.

"What? Why are you leaving? You can't leave!"

Her mother would need him very much in the days to come. And with the world's end nearly upon them, he couldn't possibly go east and abandon them all.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Linaer sighed as he gripped her shoulders. "I'll be leaving in nine days, and I'll be back in two months, assuming all goes well-" Linaer winced. "And- and it will." He hurried to explain. "It's just a routine border patrol; nothing to trouble your pretty head over, really."

Linaer forced another smile. "Right." _Wrong… so, so wrong…._

"Tell your Mother I'll be over in a bit."

He kissed the side of her head before sending her on her way.

* * *

The shouting was impressive. Linaer's mother could rant with the best of them, and Zigûr was very curious as to what Linaer may have been saying, if she had been slain at some point during the tirade. Then there had been loud knocking, and a chorus of voices soon filled the house and seeped into Linaer's horribly pink room.

Recognizable words faded in out of a sea of laughter and mumbling, and he contented himself to study the intricate threading of some frilly lace attached to the sleeve of one of Linaer's dresses. It was white, ruffled, the patterns within it appeared to be flowers, and there were pearls that were really little more than glass threaded into it.

His fascination with that lasted half a second longer, before he looked up to find something else, only to experience frustration at the lack of organization of the room. He couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't do anything at all.

If only his Master could come. If only… he longed to have hands of his own, to shape the world about him into beautiful forms, to wield a sword again, to lift a hammer and send it swinging downward in a song of whistling air, ringing metal, and flowers of sparks.

A horrible cacophony of tearing, snarling, ripping, and other indistinguishable sounds no less terrible resounded in the pink frilly hell of Linaer's room. All were sounds that no mortal could hear. It was the sound of a spirit torturing itself in absolute silence.

At least one of the cats slipped in to keep him company.

Only when the pain of Zigûr's thoughts were buried beneath a dull throbbing of a different sort, the ripping, and shredding, and slashing, and spiritual destruction did he finally fall still. Every shred of his own dark smoky essence wilted until he'd shrunken into the farthest reaches of an adolescent girl's closet.

He wished his Master had already appeared….

A faint mewl rose form the bed, and despite himself he looked up, into those eyes. Into those horribly familiar eyes. The emotions he's thought he'd spent while tearing himself apart rose up in a furious wave, that would have let him shaking had he possessed a physical body.

_"Go away you filthy little beast."_ The words were a pained desperate hiss. He just wanted to be left alone, without so much as his own thoughts to bother him.

The cat didn't leave. It didn't respond. It just laid there watching him with cracked orange eyes. He looked away before he did anything more to himself.

All he had to do was wait. Wait for his master to arrive and his initial fury to be unleashed against the world, then he'd leave. He'd be rid of the annoying mortal girls, the turbulent emotions, his uselessness, and those horrid eyes.

* * *

"Ahh, that's finally over." Linaer's voice cut through the silence of her room. Zigûr stirred, pulling himself together to hide his freak-out. Not wishing to bring any attention to his current condition he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Thy cooking made the house smell sweet, but I wonder if the food was sweeter still, or more likely a pale imitation of its bouquet."

Linaer's face shifted from startled and offended to a smirk. "If you get yourself a flesh-body between now and the end, I'll cook for you and you can make that decision for yourself."

"Oh wilt thou?" From the darkness Zigûr smirked. "I've eaten meals prepared by Maiar and plucked fruits from Lady Yavanna's trees in Valinor."

Linaer shut her door before making to her bed. "Why even bother to taunt me? Clearly I am outmatched by the Gods. But I could probably best the mortals that have prepared for you thus far."

At that Zigûr uttered a short laugh. "Thinkest thou can outdo even the haled chefs of Numenor?"

Linaer smirked. "I'll consider that my challenge-"

"Linaer who are you talking to!?"

Both Linaer and Zigûr froze. The former dark lord's narrowed at the panic stricken teen.

"…Myself!" With that Linaer hurried to her bedroom door to face her mother, while Zigûr sunk into the depths of the closet.

"I'm talking to myself… sort of." Linaer bit her lip stealing a sideways glance into her room. "I met a boy while I was cutting the flowers from the garden…." It was a total lie.

"You met a young man in our garden today!?" Her mother's glee at the prospect of her daughter finally getting married shoved aside all her questions about her daughter's solo conversation.

_Yeah, I met a young man in our garden, because handsome men just pop out of holes in the ground. _Linaer couldn't say why or how her mind suddenly turned to dwarves. And there she was in some Dwarven hall, surrounded by gems and jewels with her dwarf lover. In his strong arms, she sat, braiding his beard much to his displeasure. Maybe she could weave in some flowers-

She almost laughed, but she kept her composure enough to smile a bit wider.

"Oh he must be a very special lad to make you smile so! Bring him to dinner-!"

"What?!" Linaer opened and closed her mouth, unable to utter a word, and she was positive she could hear snickering from her closet. "Mother, I barely know him-!"

"And I don't know him at all," her Mother snapped.

"But isn't that a bit soon?" She hadn't met a guy. How was she supposed to conjure one up for a dinner and interrogation session?

"If it had been a bit soon, you would have married at eleven. You're sixteen."

"Yes, but-I-I-I... we- yes Mother. The next time I see him I'll discuss dinner with him." _Maybe a few horror stories about will send my fantasy dwarf running for the mountains._

"I'm so proud. I knew you wouldn't let your sister down!"

Linaer stifled a groan as her mother sailed down the hall, carried on wings of happiness.

"I am so dead… how do I properly hold a pillow to my face again?"

Linaer looked helplessly toward her closet where the darkness within was chuckling. "You…this is you're fault!"

"My fault! Thou art severely mistaken. Twas not I who lied to thy mother," Zigûr grinned at the distraught teen shoving that blasted cat from her bed. "Your smile by the way has very convincing."

"Oh, was it? I just thinking about braiding flowers in the beard of a cute dwarf. I didn't realize she mistook my dwarf fantasy for fondness over a real boy..."

"Thou hast dwarf fantasies?" Linaer could hear the silent 'yuck' he omitted from his question.

"No… I prefer cats actually. Come here Ea!" She scooped the cat, who'd been in the midst of a bath, up from the floor and set him in her lap. "I like cats don't I? Yes I do!" She kissed the cat's face and head ignoring its baleful whines, recoiling only when it tried to swipe at her.

In that moment Zigûr and the cat with those horrid eyes shared a moment of understanding. What she'd just done to the feline had shamed the poor the creature, and as a general lover of cats with the exception of that one, Zigûr sympathized. If he'd been a cat…. She let the cat leap from her lap, and indignantly slip through the cat flap before its mistress decided to torture it again.

"Cats are such noble creatures, and thou hast disgraced one so horribly."

"Noble?" Linaer snorted. "Say that the next time you catch one licking its butt."

"And thou thought kissing such a creature was a good idea?"

To that Linaer didn't know how to respond.


	7. Manipulation

**Author's Note: So my dog licks people's feet. My neighbor's cat (the one Ea is based off of) lays on top of people's feet. This is how they both typically greet people.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a cat. T_T Or Sauron!**

* * *

**Manipulation**

Linaer was typically an early riser. She woke before her mother to slip into the washroom and change, before sneaking back into her room to doze, read a book, ignore Zigûr, or annoy Zigûr. He found her very bizarre habit of leaving to change rather annoying on principle, since it was clear it had to do with more than him and he still hadn't figured out what the rest of it was about. Then there was the fact that she lounging on her side, splayed out across the short length of the bed; idly scratching the head of that peach coloured tabby with its horrid orange eyes, with far more ease than anyone should have ever felt in his presence- even before he became a dark lord. At least she appeared more at ease than any sane person would in his company.

And she'd jumped right back onto the topic of his former master as he assumed she would at some point.

"So why do you want to rejoin Him?"

Zigûr looked away from her, though if he were being honest with himself it was her cat he was turning away from.

"There are many reason why I wish to rejoin him. If thou wert smart, thou would consider doing the same."

There was a silence, and then he heard the rustling of blankets as the girl shifted. "Uh… thanks for the invitation, but I'll have to pass on that. And I have no interest in doing what I'm told by a person who can't give me a straight answer."

He glared at her then, and cat opened its orange eyes, as Linaer bit her lip, but refused to look away.

"Thou art but a child, and such things are beyond thy ken. It would do thee well to drop the subject…" He leaned out the closet turning his voice into a soft hiss. "Many have paid terribly to understand what is beyond them-"

"Of course I don't understand!" She snapped, with a glare of own. The room got hotter.

Not in a very long time had he met one who dared to speak him such an insolent manner, but despite his fury he kept most of his wrath in check because he was curious as to what she had to say.

"I don't understand how an artist who had all the freedom in the world to create whatever he wanted could give up his ingenuity to serve another. And I don't understand how a Maia; a being that's supposed to all-that-is-good incarnate could fall so low. How would anyone understand any of that?" She frowned at the cat's head. "Except for you…."

"Thou hast hardly a notion of freedom. In this house thou sits waiting for things to come to head. Thou art trapped in a room with trappings that are no longer thine, doting upon a little sister who is loved by her mother, awaiting the day thy mother throws you to a man who in all likelihood thou will not know or until thou hast no choice but to run in order to escape an arranged marriage and then thou wilt live the guilt of disobeying thy mother's wishes and abandoning thy sister." He smirked at the open expression of horror and guilt that crossed her face- the way she flinched and momentarily looked away. "And thou presumes to speak to me of freedom-?"

"We're not talking about me," Linaer snarled, making to stand. She needed to get air or she'd roast. She wasn't more than a few steps from her bed when an ominous black cloud silently appeared in front and above her. "We were talking about You."

She was starting to sweat, and now the need to reach cooler air was stronger than before. She could try to run through him… and risk burning?

"Perhaps thou would like to sit down…."

Linaer scowled at him, shaking her head. Prying had been a really bad plan. Why couldn't she have just dropped it…?

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not free, but I didn't…"_sell my soul for power. _She trailed off. If her prying didn't get her killed that statement would have.

"You didn't what?" Zigur's voice turned icy soft- a complete mockery of the shimmery air crackling around him. Linaer staggered back, bumping the bed before crawling across it.

She felt like she'd spent the entire day under a summer sun. Roiling smoke followed a short distance. The cat leapt from the bed and bolted out the door.

"What is that you didn't do?" He repeated, ignoring the feline's departure.

"I-" She watched the cat flap swaying. So much for stories about loyal pets…. "I-" She couldn't lie. She wasn't Elwin, and even if she could lie, how could she fool Zigûr? "I-it's not important. It would have been lie if I'd said it." It very well may have been a lie, for all she knew. She couldn't look at him though.

"Thou art a miserable liar." Zigûr's voice was still soft, but had taken a mocking tone.

Linaer sucked in a breath as black smoke encroached. He wasn't surrounded by hazy air like before, but the closeness was uncomfortable.

"Linaer! Lin!" Elwin's voice called from outside the door.

Ice filled Linaer's blood as she looked at the door. Swallowing an icicle Linaer gave the menacing smoke cloud hovering over her the darkest glare she could. He'd swooped the corner between the dresser and a bookcase.

"Lin!" Elwin pulled open the door. "Can we have pancakes for breakfast? Mother bought syrup last time we were out." She looked toward the shelves smiling. "Good morning Zigûr."

Her big blue pancake craving puppy eyes returned to Linaer, who was mentally giving thanks to any deities in earshot that Elwin hadn't walked in any sooner.

"Uh…"Linaer glanced at the dark cloud. "Yes."

Elwin beamed, and jumped on the bed to give Linaer a hug, only to recoil. "Eww, you're wet…" She poked a few strands of hair plastered to Linaer's forehead.

"Well, good morning to you too." Linaer swiped at her forehead where Elwin had poked her. "It's hot in here if you haven't noticed. Now go get dressed, and then you can help me make those pancakes."

Elwin pouted and then grinned. "Can we put berries or chocolates in them?"

Uttered a laugh Linaer ruffled Elwin's hair. "Sure."

"Bye Zigûr!" Elwin scrambled to the door, only to hesitate. "You can eat with us you like-"

"Thy sister has already…" Linaer bit the inside of her cheek as she felt Zigûr looking at her. "Promised me a meal."

Elwin frowned at the shadowy mass before shrugging. "Okay." She slipped out the door.

Heaving a sigh of relief Linaer fell on her back.

"I promised you a meal."

She stared at the rafters above, frowning as a few tendrils of smoke entered her vision.

"Surely thou hast not forgotten-"

"No, I remember…." She closed her eyes suddenly feeling tired. "Why did you sacrifice your art for Him?"

"Why dost thou think I sacrificed my art?" Despite his anger and irritation it was a strange thing to hear someone refer to his work as art. It was an out of place compliment he hadn't heard since- a face with orange eyes flashed across his mind- he uttered a sigh feeling a dull upwelling of the emotions from a few days before.

"Are you saying you didn't sacrifice your art to join him?"

Zigûr stared down at intent grey eyes. She called his work art, despite knowing of some of the horrors he'd made. The ring was a prime example. She must have known of the ring, though he suspected she knew a bit more about his metallurgy than that. Art. The last time he'd heard a work of his own hands called art Morgoth had not been his master.

"My art was the reason I joined him initially." He liked her calling his work art. He hadn't much to be proud of lately, and it did feed his ego, thou it brought along with it a sense of melancholy and frustration. He'd always needed to keep his hands busy. Creation helped stave off his anxiety, and he didn't even have hands to use. "To make anything and everything I desired without interruption was my desire. It was through him my art had the greatest chance of flourishing." As an afterthought he added. "He wasn't evil at the time."

The girl was frowning up at him contemplatively. "That's…" she bit her lip. "Not what I thought you were going say."

That he could have guessed. She was still mulling it over, perhaps trying to decide if he'd been honest or not. There was no point in lying about it, especially since it was a trait they apparently shared-even if the culinary arts weren't what he'd consider art- because it would be easier for her to humanize him if she thought she could relate to him. Then manipulation was easy.

"Lin I'm ready!" A loud voice called from down the hall.

The girl sighed and sat up, still looking up at him. "I guess that's my cue." She slipped out leaving him alone.

He descended, settling over the bed in a roiling mass of darkness. He couldn't actually lay on the bed, only hover over, but he could feel the heat from where the girl had lain.

Art. The word was dancing around in his head. He hadn't expected to hear it spoken about anything of his in a very long time. But then his crafts had never been called art. Art had been works of another smith's hands: one who'd often stared back at him in a clear pool of water or a silver mirror with fiery eyes and elongated pupils. One that was admired rather than abhorred-

The shifting of the cat flap caught his attention, and he grit his nonexistent teeth as he looked down into the eyes of that peach tabby.

_Mairon._

It slunk around the bed watching him before leaping onto a bookcase, knocking a doll to the floor with a loud crack as it flopped in a line of sun provided by a crack in the curtains. From there it alternated between looking at him and out the slit of window, before closing its inner eyelids and dozing.

* * *

**Okay, so Lin's bothered Sauron enough. It's his turn to ask the questions next chapter, so some of her quirks will be explained. ;D I'm updating the spoilers on my profile.**


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